


sirens in the beat of your heart

by thesepossessedbylight



Category: Ocean's (Movies), Ocean's Eight
Genre: F/F, Reunion Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 15:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14876396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesepossessedbylight/pseuds/thesepossessedbylight
Summary: In the clink, Debbie dreamed. One night as she was imagining her new life, her dream self caught a flash of bright blonde hair out the corner of her eye. Right here on her imaginary beach.It was Lou. Of course it was.





	sirens in the beat of your heart

In the clink, Debbie dreamed.

Her prison jumpsuit was orange. She hated it: it bled the glow from her skin and made her look pallid, sickly. She ignored it. 

Two years into her sentence, the wardens became jumpy, spooked by her habit of keeping herself to herself. She was Danny Ocean’s sister, after all: who knew what she might be planning? So theyfilled her cell with five other women, all with shifty eyes and poorly-concealed nervous grins, none of them con artists with her flair.

When their noise and brutal one-upmanship interfered with her thinking, she tied her hair in a knot at the back of her head, slid down from her bunk and punched one in the head so hard she crumpled, cartoon-like, to the floor. In her peripheral vision she felt, more than saw, another woman lunging for her, and on instinct her elbow snapped out, winding the woman and knocking her to the floor. Three more silent punches and kicks later, all five lay winded or unconscious on the floor. With a deep breath, she untied her hair and pounded on the bars of the cell. When two wardens arrived, both overweight and wheezing, she smiled and said, “I think this is worth a while in solitary, don’t you?”

In solitary, she was free to think. She ignored her neon jumpsuit. She ignored the grey walls of her cell. Solitary itself took care of the usual taunts from other prisoners. In three weeks she had come up with the rough bones of a fourteen-step plan: how to rob the Met Gala, and not get caught. In the last week she was in solitary she spent her time doing push-ups on the cell’s hard concrete floor, and imagining how her plan might come to fruition.

Back in her cell, after a month in solitary, she ignored her new cell-mates. They were more than happy to ignore her, too: her previous punch-up had clearly been the subject of gossip, and, well. If you can’t have a woman like that on your side, it’s better to ignore her, and hope like hell she doesn’t notice you. 

Debbie didn’t care. When she wasn’t eating or sleeping or exercising, she was thinking.

The first version of her plan needed fifteen people: eventually, she refined it to seven. Originally, there were multiple ways she could get caught; the plan was full of holes. By three years into her sentence, she’d refined it so there were only two ways they could get caught. By four years in, she’d worked out contingency plans for each instance. By five years, she’d worked out contingency plans for the contingency plans. 

By the time she was five years and two months into her sentence, there was nothing left to do. So she lay back on her hard prison bunk, and dreamed. At first she tried to imagine something else, some other life after The Heist, this one last job, where maybe she’d take her millions and go and hang out on a beach somewhere, shake her prison complexion once and for all. And then, one night as she was imagining her new life, her dream self caught a flash of bright blonde hair out the corner of her eye. Right here on her imaginary beach. 

It was Lou. Of course it was. Her dream-self turned her head fully and saw her there, lounging on a deck recliner identical to Debbie’s own, all long, pale legs and dark eyes and laughing mouth, and Debbie gasped, wrenching herself out of the daydream and sitting up on her bunk. Her heartbeat was wild, beating its way out of her chest, and she focused on the grey concrete wall in front of her, breathing through her nose and out through her mouth as she calmed. She lay back down after a few minutes, and closed her eyes. 

“Miss me?” 

Her dream self opened her eyes. In her head, she was back on the beach, blue sky above, green ocean ahead, bordered by golden sand. The voice to her left was familiar, a woman’s deep voice, smooth as chocolate, rich as coffee. 

She turned her head. Lou was grinning at her, propped up on her elbow on her recliner, nearly naked but for a purple bikini.

“Maybe I’ve finally cracked,” Debbie muttered, glancing down at her body, stretched out on the recliner. 

“I can assure you this is all a dream,” Lou said, swinging her legs over the side of her recliner, burying her toes in the loose, warm sand.

“Damn,” Debbie said, and sat up. 

Lou reached out, stretching towards Debbie’s deck chair, and - oh, Debbie missed this. Missed her. She let Lou switch chairs, sitting beside her, close enough that their legs brushed, warm and naked in the afternoon sun. Lou sat like she lived, arms and legs akimbo, waiting for no one, vital and present and loved. 

“I’ve missed you.” The truth slipped out of Debbie almost without her permission, harder to admit than a lie. 

“Me too,” Lou murmured, glancing at Debbie before her gaze slipped to the sand in front of them. Debbie reached out, tucked a piece of blonde hair behind Lou’s ear. Lou smiled at the corner of her mouth, and Debbie’s hand fell to her lap. 

“I keep on expecting you to write,” Lou said eventually. 

“We agreed I wouldn’t, remember?” Debbie’s voice was tentative. “You’ve a clean record. Contact with me would…” 

Lou’s fingers wrapped themselves around Debbie’s, lying lax in her lap. “I know,” she said quietly. “But I miss you, all the same.” 

Debbie gazed at the sight of their hands together, committing the imaginary sight to memory. 

“I wish I could see you for real,” she said, and finally Lou leaned forward and kissed her. 

It was nothing they hadn’t done a thousand times before, but in Debbie’s fevered imagination, it was a kiss to end all others. She closed her eyes within the dream, trying her hardest to make it real, conjuring up the feeling of Lou’s lips against hers, the strong grasp of Lou’s fingers at the back of her neck, pulling her further into Lou’s ambit.

 

 

It didn’t help the days go by any faster, but after that, Debbie dreamed of Lou every day. Now she had another routine: all the time she wasn’t eating, sleeping, or exercising, she would run through The Heist in her head, and then she would dream of Lou. Her cellmates didn’t care what she did - they were happy to continue ignoring her - and it gave her an added incentive to good behaviour.

And finally, five years, eight months, and twelve days after she first stepped foot in jail, she was free. It was a heady feeling, walking away in the dress and heels she had worn that awful night, and she caught a taxi, heading immediately to Bergdorf’s. 

She waited to text Lou until she’d picked up a few things - new lingerie, for instance - and until she’d run through The Heist one last time, submerged to her shoulders in a bubble bath. She savoured the rising tension, waiting to text her, letting the anticipation build until it was a physical thing deep in her stomach, and right at the point when it was about to turn sour, about to turn to panic, she picked up the phone. 

_Where in the fking cemetery. 12:00?_

These phones were harder to use than she had anticipated, but Lou got the message and texted back. 

_Hello, you._

 

 

And then - a visit to the cemetery, a quick, fond discussion with Reuben, the family worrier. After a walk through the pouring rain later, she slides onto the passenger seat in Lou’s van. And then - Lou’s arms, solid around her shoulders, and Lou’s lips, soft and hot against her cheek. Her hand on Lou’s thigh as she drives them out of the cemetery, all taut muscle underneath her fingertips, underneath her silk suit, the muscle memory of sex and lust and her enduring love for this woman animating Debbie’s nerves, causing her fingers to tremble. 

“That’s the problem with you,” Lou says, half-joking. “You get me interested before I know what I’m signing up for.”

Debbie sighs. She already knows Lou’s going to do it; knows Lou would do anything for an adrenaline rush and Debbie’s promise, but she just needs a little more encouragement… “Jewels,” she says finally. “Great, big, embarrassingly large diamonds.”

Lou looks over from the driver’s seat as she parks, in front of the concrete wall of Lou’s abandoned ballroom. It should remind Debbie of the concrete wall of her cell, but it doesn’t: her heartbeat speeds up, in anticipation of this new beginning, and she grins at Lou as she slams the door of the car. She leaves her suitcase in the back of the car, knows she’ll have to come back for it later, but there’s a light in Lou’s eyes that she recognises, and she veers close enough to Lou on her way to the door that their hands brush - 

And Lou grabs her by the shoulders, hands strong around her arms, and walks her backwards in a hurry. Debbie’s back slams against the concrete wall, knocking the breath out of her, and Lou’s lips are on hers, right where they belong, and Debbie wraps her arms about Lou’s back, feeling her warmth seep through her silk jacket. Lou has both hands inside Debbie’s coat, stealing her way inside Debbie’s clothes like she was born to it, born to fuck Debbie, and when Lou finally draws back, Debbie grins, pleased and out of breath. 

“I’ve missed you,” she says, and Lou doesn’t bother with the sarcasm, just smiles, with the fondest look on her face Debbie’s ever seen. 

“I’ve missed you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Reasons why I love this movie: Cate Blanchett's thighs, Cate Blanchett's thighs in leather jeans, Cate Blanchett's hair, Cate Blanchett's smile...
> 
> Reasons why I love living at the bottom of the world: getting to see this film a day!!! early!!! which makes it twice I've seen this film now. Oops?
> 
> Also: I'd like to note that about halfway through the film Debbie's talking with Tammy about how she got caught last time, and I am about 99% certain she says "Lou and I were going through a rough patch." I don't care what anyone else says, Debbie/Lou is CANON.


End file.
